


The Red Scare

by cadkitten



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Fear, Historical, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he’d first met the other man, he had naturally assumed that absolutely nothing would become of them. His regard for the quiet man with the violet eyes was honestly close to nil. People that didn’t speak up were usually of little note to America and from that stance alone, he had all but discarded any care for him at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Red Scare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fayb1994](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fayb1994).



> Done as a commission request from ACE (Albuquerque Comic Expo). It should be noted that all I know about Hetalia is what the characters are wearing. I based this off of actual historical facts and went with the events surrounding the Cold War and The Red Scare as basis for emotions between Russia and America.  
> Song[s]: "Diabolos" by Dir en grey

When he’d first met the other man, he had naturally assumed that absolutely nothing would become of them. His regard for the quiet man with the violet eyes was honestly close to nil. People that didn’t speak up were usually of little note to America and from that stance alone, he had all but discarded any care for him at all. Throughout their first few meetings, Russia said nearly nothing at all, Germany and a handful of others dogging in most of the time, and when the other man had finally spoken at all, it hadn’t even been directed at America.

And, thus, it took months before America even realized that Russia existed. Meeting after meeting occurred and each and every time, the pair seemed to avoid speaking to one another, their interaction completely nominal. As far as America was concerned, Russia was someone to be mostly forgotten about, looked to as backup and nothing more. But as time passed by, the pair grew more familiar with one another. Over time, America grew wary of the way that Russia looked at him during the meetings, grew to fear the spark of near hatred he found in the other man’s eyes.

And then it came, the day that America had been dreading all along. Russia finally stood up during one of their talks and announced what had been boiling under the surface for so very long. His voice louder than it had ever been, he demanded things of America that the self-appointed leader would never have bowed down to. It was with anger that he responded, in kind, picking up the red-labeled packet Russia had thrown on the table and ripping it in half. His response was slightly more of an eye-for-an-eye than it was rational, and even as he stormed from the room, he wondered what he’d been honestly thinking in engaging the other man in such a manner.

Still, yet another month passed them by before either man dared to come within close proximity to one another. And when they finally did, it was not without trepidation.

America was in his office, packing away important papers from the meeting, his back to the door, when Russia slipped inside and closed the door. And then he let the bomb drop, opening his mouth and breathing out his intentions clearer than he’d ever been before. “Tonight, America, I will fuck you.”

The brown-suited man turned on his heel, his back to the desk, his hand groping behind him for something... anything... to defend himself with. But in those final moments, as Russia advanced on him, he realized despite all of his best efforts at playing like he’d have his own weapons at his disposal should this ever happen... he honestly had nothing at all. He had only his words to fight back with, nothing more. And with a heavy-heart, he resigned himself to what was to come. 

Sinking back against the table, he pulled himself up on it and bowed his head. “Do as you will. And never speak of it again.”

“Never a problem,” Russia returned, advancing on the other man. He reached out for that hideous suit jacket, peeling it from the other man’s shoulders and letting it fall onto the desk behind him. His own white coat followed and a moment later, his trousers were unbuckled and unzipped. He gestured at America’s own clothing, a cruel smirk on his face. This was everything he had in mind, even the horrible parts of it would become something more... something deeper as he forced them to the forefront. “Strip yourself of your barriers, America.”

The usually stoic man struggled to unbutton his shirt, fingers trembling as he submitted to the other’s whims. If anyone else ever knew how easy it was to cause him such panic... such fear... he’d never be without either ever again. He had to do whatever it took in this room to ensure no one else ever found out how this was going to end. Once he was devoid of his clothing, he pulled himself back up on the desk and lay back, closing his eyes. “Make it quick.”

Russia let out a soft laugh. “I’m never quick, America. And I intend to take my time... stirring you up.”

The hideously bad pick-up line didn’t seem to even phase America, who had admittedly used worse over the years. He heaved out a sigh and spread his legs, revealing himself to the determined man.

The moments ticked by and America waited, his eyes closed, and his body admittedly more tense than he’d have liked it to be, simply waiting for the proverbial hammer to fall. His thighs were spread and a moment later, he felt a moist warmth press against him. Cringing, he turned away from it, his face a mask of pure shame. If they were to be caught... how would he ever live this down? To submit to such a thing, to allow someone to so fully and completely dominate him... it was almost the utmost insult to a free spirit like America. He claimed so much power and yet here he was, lying down and quite literally taking it from Russia like it was nothing. But then again, what went on under the table – or more accurately, on the desk – was of no one else’s concern. 

America drew in a breath and slowly let it out as he felt something cold slip inside him. He was clearly at war with himself, the emotions laid so clearly out across his face, even his body language speaking volumes of how this was affecting him. He lay there, distant and unresponsive, simply waiting on the final moment of his demise to come. He’d talked a big game in the past, but when it came right down to it, he was utterly submissive, no more harmful than a turtle on his back.

Even as the coldness slipped from him, the warmth of what he could only assume was Russia filling him, he neglected to respond in any form or fashion. He’d do what came naturally to him: take it up the ass, and then roll over and pretend like everything was perfectly normal and go right back to badmouthing every other Axis that did the same thing. 

Russia labored over him, his disgusting breath hitting him in the face and making him flinch away. There were times when he simply wished that everyone was as cleanly with all parts of themselves as he was. At least, he decided, Russia wasn’t horribly stinky in every single way. The moments ticked by, the clock on the wall seeming to count down to his demise, the click of the second hand filling his head with the most incessant rhythm. Never in his life had he counted the seconds more preciously than he did now. Ninety seconds and then a hundred and twenty. Four hundred and then nearly seven hundred. Something boiled low in his belly and he found the stirrings of arousal built from the way Russia was giving it to him. Even as he was completely shafted by the red-tied man, he found himself enjoying it in some fucked-up manner. 

The seconds continued to tick off the clock behind his desk and he focused only on that as he moved his hand down his belly, wrapping it firmly around his cock. As he indulged himself, he managed to push the entire idea of what Russia was doing from his mind. He imagined another frame of reference, a distant place filled with all the food he could eat and filled to the brim with golden treasure. A smile seemed to freeze itself on his face and he lay there, seeming to enjoy what Russia was giving him.

Russia’s movements became faster and more frenzied, his movements irrational and utterly irregular, falling apart at the seams. Even as he voiced the cry of his impending explosion, it was more than obvious that it would fall flat of any amount of damage that America had thought it would cause. He followed shortly behind, not a sound leaving his throat as he fell over the edge, his cum splattering across his abdomen.

The clock ticked out a few more seconds and Russia pulled away, shifting to clean himself of the entire incident and fasten up his pants. A smirk on his face, he tossed another red envelope onto the table next to America. “Round one goes to me. Round two... we shall see.” And with that, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

America stared at the closed office door for a few more seconds. What, exactly, had he gotten himself into?

**The End**


End file.
